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Rappa
Miscellaneous
In the Palm of the Hand
The black man stepped on the top of the hill
He took his guitar and played for the people
For the people of crime
Who arrived and placed
Their weapons slowly on the floor
The same floor that holds the blood
The same floor of running around
The same floor that of so many families
That today drum the same sound
In the palm of the hand to alleviate
The black man shone and helped
Those souls distorted by war
Only with the viola, only with his voice
Only with the viola his ideas
Onegro spoke and spoke loudly
Inspired a calm
And mysteriously joyful is
Suffocating the worst of the bandits
And in return he left tears
In the artist's eyes
Tears, tears
In the palm of his hand to relieve
Today same, today
When the noise of gunshots signals
What happens there
A silent communication
It is done with the memory of the weapons on the ground
br/>For a while
Winning another mission